Why Didn't I Realize It Before?
by Renesia DarkSoulFire
Summary: Why didn't I realise it before? You me bed. Just a drabble. My very first Johnlock fic.


**Hey guys! This is my first BBC Sherlock fic. That's right, the very first. Ah, I'm so nervous to be entering this new fandom, but I really couldn't help it. I just saw this wonderful gif and decided to make a story out of it. Well, more of a drabble really. Enjoy.**

**~ Ren**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock. Or John. Or Lestrade. (Though I'm definitely glad to be able to say I don't own Anderson).**

* * *

It was a normal day in Bakers Street. The noise of the traffic could be dully heard through the closed windows of the apartment and over the noise of tapping keys and thinking. That right, _thinking._ When Sherlock was thinking, you could practically _hear_ the mechanical whirs of various machines in his mind palace as they worked. John was sure he wouldn't know half the machines that existed inside that mind palace. (And he'd be right too. Many of them were Sherlock's inventions.)Anyways, it was a normal morning, complete with a bored Sherlock, working-on-the-blog John and body parts in various nooks and crannies in the kitchen. ("Sherlock, why is there an _intestine_ behind my jam?" "It's all in the name of medical science, John. I had thought you wouldn't be opposed to _science_." "Honestly Sherlock, I wouldn't be opposed to science _if it didn't involve putting different body parts near my food_!" "But there wasn't any more space in the fridge." "Of course. And putting it with _my jam_ seemed to be the most reasonable place, yeah?") The birds were singing, Mrs. Hudson was preparing for a tea party, by letting John and Sherlock taste each and every thing she baked, they were having a good day and the sun seemed to have finally given up its hide-and-seek with the clouds. Everything was nice and quiet, but of course, everything good has to be go at some time or the other. And this silence was broken by a cry from Sherlock as he sat up from his position on the couch. He clapped his hands together, his eyes glittering triumphantly as he steepled his fingers and tapped them together. The army doctor cautiously looked over at the brown haired man, furrowing his eyebrows slightly.

"You okay, Sherlock?" asked the blond. The detective looked over at his companion and brightened slightly before turning to fully face the doctor, studying him.

"I just realized something," he announced, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Oh, and what did you realize?" asked John, briefly wondering if he should be scared right now.

"You and I. We should be sleeping together. I have no idea why I didn't realize it before."

John did a rather good impersonation of a fish for a couple of second-or was it minutes?-before he deemed himself ready to reply.

"B-bed? Sherlock, are you in your right mind?" he asked rather calmly, if he may say so himself. The detective blinked and raised an eyebrow before making a dismissive gesture.

"Of course. The signs have been there since the beginning. You were the only one who I trusted since the beginning. You were the only one I talked to, who didn't run away, and the one who a shot a man for me without even knowing me well. That in itself was a great thing. Then there was also the fact that you were the only one I looked for approval towards, and you're my blogger. This, and the fact that you seem to have made me more…human, showed me that you're the only person, excluding Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade, to actually have made an impact on me. And also, I have taken other people's views into account too, along with doing some research on the behavior of couples and reading our own body language. We should be lovers by now."

He said that all so matter-of-factly that John was, for a second, admiring his brilliance. Then what he just said registered in his mind and he found himself sputtering and floundering for something to say. What did one say in a situation like this anyways?

"Um..._what?_" Yes, that should work for now. Sherlock huffed and stood up, towering over the still seated John before lowering himself to the doctor's height and grabbing his head, pulling him forward for a kiss. From that point it was easy for the good doctor to see where everything was going and he didn't really try stopping it. After that…well, lets just say Sherlock can _explain_ things _really_ well.

* * *

**Well, what do you think? Argh, I'm so nervous. Anyways, review!**

**~ Ren**


End file.
